


Compassion and Responsibility

by Kylah618



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Friendship, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Hurt/Comfort, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, Other, Worried Anakin Skywalker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:28:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29184012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kylah618/pseuds/Kylah618
Summary: Immediately following the Zygerrian mission and Kadavo, Cody notices his General is looking a little under the weather. Knowing he won't visit Medical of his own power, he seeks outside intervention.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 94





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was really dissatisfied with the way Escape from Kadavo ended in The Clone Wars. I felt like after all Obi-Wan had been through, casually strolling across the hangar with the others was just… not realistic. I also enjoy a good old hurt/comfort fic. And so, this is my slight-AU coda to Kadavo. 
> 
> (Also, Siri Tachi is one of my favorites, so I threw her into the mix for my own amusement.)
> 
> Many, many thanks to my dear friend Bebedora for serving as beta, letting me bounce ideas off, and sending me to the corner when feverish Obi-Wan talks like Master Yoda. I love ya, lady!
> 
> Finally, I have not written regularly in AGES, so be gentle as I work out the rust. 
> 
> Disclaimer: This is all owned by LucasArts and Disney – I own nothing.

**Part One**

Most would not have noticed the small hitch in Obi-Wan’s stance. The way he held his arm against his side. His subtle withdrawal from the rest of the room and into the quiet corner to study a datapad. Most would have taken the furrow in his brow for concentration.

Cody, however, knew the Jedi better than most. He had fought alongside him in countless battles and had seen him injured in combat more than once. 

He also knew that Obi-Wan detested being fussed over. He hated having to visit medical. He took his role as general in the Grand Army of the Republic seriously and would not want to appear weak in front of his subordinates. 

He was so kriffing stubborn.

Thoughtfully, Cody studied Obi-Wan and considered the best way to approach the situation. He could speak with General Skywalker, for certain. But the young Jedi would, as he tended to do with most situations, rush in head-first and demand Kenobi head straight to Medical and have Kix patch him up. Cody rolled his eyes, imagining the inevitable argument between the two generals, and pondered just how firmly Obi-Wan would then dig in his heels. 

He could mention it to Commander Tano. He glanced contemplatively at the Togruta Padawan, deep in conversation with her people’s governor. While Ahsoka would have a more tactful approach to her grand-master, she would likely still include Anakin. 

Rex, perhaps? His clone brethren had been by Kenobi’s side during his captivity on Kadavo the last few weeks. He knew better than any of the rest of them what Obi-Wan had endured. To be honest, Cody himself wasn’t yet sure. The general hadn’t been debriefed, and Cody had not yet had a moment to talk to him privately to ask. Even then, Cody was sure, Obi-Wan would be reluctant to share the details.

After all, if they didn’t know then they couldn’t make a fuss. 

He closed his eyes briefly and swore under his breath. He outright vetoed going straight to Kix himself. While they could probably manhandle the general into medical between the two of them, he would never forgive them for it. 

His gaze shifted as the door at the far end of the hangar slid open, and a pretty, blonde Jedi woman strode in. Cody watched her speculatively as she paused to say something to Master Plo, and then continued over to operate a data port not far from Obi-Wan. Considering, Cody scratched his chin. He had seen the woman, Master Tachi, off and on through the war, occasionally passing information she had obtained from covert missions to Generals Kenobi and Skywalker. Though she wasn’t officially a member of the GAR, she operated on its fringes and could be relied on to provide classified information. 

Moreover, he had seen her interact with General Kenobi several times. The general could be suave and almost flirtatious with nearly anyone, but with Master Tachi that seemed to take on a whole new life. There seemed to be a casual familiarity between the two, one that was undemanding and comfortable. Cody hesitated for only a moment before he made up his mind and strode over to stand beside her.

“Master Tachi?”

Siri glanced up from the data she was reviewing. “Yes,” she replied. “Cody, is it?” The blonde closed out the data and opened another file. “What can I do for you?”

He glanced quickly behind him to General Kenobi, and then stepped closer to Siri and dropped his voice, “Look, I hate to get you involved. I know you’re just here to refuel between missions and such, but...” He paused, grasping for the best way to put it. “How well do you know General Kenobi?”

“Well enough,” she answered. Siri, too, cast a glance over to Obi-Wan. “We were younglings in the Temple together, and padawans at the same time.”

Cody dropped his voice even further. “Then I want to ask you a favor...”

****

Siri listened to Cody while she fixed her eyes on Obi-Wan. Clearly the clone knew his General better than her old friend gave the man credit for. “He’s trying to hide it,” Cody said. “But, Master Tachi, I can see that he’s injured.”

Careful not to alert Obi-Wan, Siri lowered her shields and surreptitiously stretched her mind out to her fellow Jedi. She could feel the pain and discomfort radiating from him, though he did a masterful job of keeping his expression carefully impassive. “Yes, I can see that,” she said slowly. She turned her attention back to Cody. “What happened to him? I only just got here myself.”

His expression darkened. “The General, along with the Togruta and a few of our troops, were taken captive by Zygerrian slavers. He has been working in the slave mines of Kadavo for weeks.”

Siri started, and horror and alarm flashed through her so quickly that she failed to shield it appropriately. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Obi-Wan’s auburn head snap up and look around, and she hastily threw her mental shields back up to block him.

“He hasn’t checked into medical,” Cody went on, and Siri heaved a long-suffering sigh. “I could say something to him myself, but he’ll just pull rank. And if I get General Skywalker involved…“

Siri pinched the bridge of her nose. “You don’t have to tell me how that will end.”

Cody chuckled. “Anyway,” he continued, “I wondered if you might say something to him? See if you can convince him to go get checked out and treated?”

Inwardly, Siri swore. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have some ocean-front land on Tatooine?” She asked with a wry grin, prompting a laugh from Cody. “I can try,” she said. “But clearly you know him well. If he digs in his heels, there’s only so much I can do.”

“I know, Master Tachi,” he conceded. “If it comes to it, I’ll suck it up and involve General Skywalker.”

“Let me try first,” she said and logged completely out of the dataport. “I’ll let you know if we need to take it further.”

“Thanks,” he replied with a nod. “The 212th, we’re all fond of the General. Do what you can for him.” 

As he strode away, Siri steeled herself for the argument she knew was to come. She ensured her mental shields were in place, fixed a relaxed expression on her face, and casually strode over to Obi-Wan.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.” She spun the chair next to him and sat down, facing him.

Obi-Wan looked up from his datapad, startled. His expression melted into a tired smile. “Hello there,” he replied. “I didn’t expect to see you either.”

The utter exhaustion he felt was obvious in his blue eyes, and Siri felt a tug at the heart strings she struggled to suppress. “I’m between assignments,” she said. “Refueling.” She allowed her eyes to slowly travel over him. “You look like you’ve had better days, Kenobi.”

His guard immediately flashed into his eyes, telling Siri she would have a fight on her hands. “I’m just a bit tired,” he said dismissively. “It’s been a very long mission.”

Siri leaned forward. “Maybe—and I know this is a radical idea but hear me out—you should think about going to Medical. Just to be sure.” 

She had anticipated the scowl that fell over his expression. “I’m fine,” he retorted. “I don’t need Medical.”

“Really?” she asked, casually. Her eyes fell on the arm wrapped across his middle. “If you’re really, truly fine, let me poke you in the ribs and test that.”

His scowl deepened. “Siri—"

“Obi-Wan,” she cut him off. “You are clearly not fine. You are not fine enough that Commander Cody sought me out and asked me to try and persuade you to get checked out because he is concerned about you.”

“Cody came to you?” His brow furrowed. “Why didn’t he just say something to me?”

In answer, she simply arched a brow and stared at him. 

He shook his head. “He could have gone to Anakin,” he grumbled.

“You’ve met Anakin, right?” she asked. “I believe the commander said he would like to avoid Anakin forcibly dragging you into Medical kicking and screaming.”

Obi-Wan appeared to think that over. “Fair point,” he conceded, and then sighed. “Siri, I don’t want to go to medical. The Togruta...”

Her expression softened. “I understand you were held captive with them on Kadavo.”

He rubbed a hand tiredly over his face. “Any time I did something to set off the Zygerrians, they took it out on the Togruta,” he said softly. “I made it worse for them, and they hate me—rightfully so. I don’t want to put them through anymore.”

“Obi-Wan,” her voice was soft, tender. “I understand that, I do. But if you’re injured, we need to get you taken care of.” She glanced quickly around, and then reached over to brush away the stray lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead. It gave him a younger, vulnerable look that reminded her painfully of the boy she had once held hands with under the tables during mealtimes in the Temple. She bit her lip thoughtfully as she brushed the back of her fingers over the soft beard on his cheek. Instinctively, he closed his eyes and leaned into it. “I’ll tell you what,” she said. “I’ve been assigned a small room with a bunk and a ‘fresher here on board. What if I gave you use of my quarters, such as they are, and get a medic to come to you?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “Siri, I can’t take your bed.”

A small, wicked grin twitched her lips. “We can share it, then.”

She was both gratified and relieved when the familiar twinkle flashed into his eyes. “Madam, I believe you overestimate my stamina just now.” He sighed. “Alright,” he agreed. “I can agree to that plan.”

Siri held out a hand and helped pull Obi-Wan to his feet, then gave him the location of her quarters. “I’m going to go locate a medic, and some clean clothes for you.” Her brow raised. “You go on, and maybe give some consideration to making use of the ‘fresher.”

He made a face and nodded. “I imagine I do smell a tad.” 

She squeezed his hand encouragingly and nudged him towards the door. “Go on,” she said. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Siri watched him go, his fatigue obvious in his posture. The arm tight against his side worried her. She had a feeling they would all feel better once he was checked out. Once he had left the hangar, she sought out Cody once again. “I compromised with him,” she said without greeting. “He’s agreed to let a medic see him in my quarters.” Cody started to protest, but she held up her hand. “He does not want to go to medical because he fears he will inflict more pain and discomfort on the Togruta with his presence. I’m going to give him that and agree to this arrangement. Can you get the medic to come see him?”

Cody sighed in resignation. “Yeah. I don’t like it,” he added, “but I know the general. I’ll go find Kix.”

He headed off on his mission, and Siri then turned to her next target. She took a deep, calming breath, and zeroed on a corner where Anakin Skywalker was leaned against the wall and talking quietly with his Padawan. 

“Master Tachi,” he said, straightening as she approached. Both he and Ahsoka bowed respectfully. “How are you?”

“I’m well,” she said, returning the bow. “But I need to speak with the both of you.” She stepped closer and lowered her voice. “I am going to tell you something, and you are not going to rush in headfirst and take over.” She folded her hands in front of her. “Please.”

Anakin visibly tensed defensively. “Go on,” he said with deep reservation as he pushed away from the wall.

“Obi-Wan is injured,” she said, quietly. She silenced his outrage with a raised hand. “His second-in-command, Cody, came to me and asked me to say something to him and try to convince him to get checked out by medical.” Ahsoka rolled her eyes, and Siri had to suppress a responding grin. 

“Why didn’t Cody just come to me?” Anakin asked in disbelief. “For that matter, why didn’t Obi-Wan?”

“Probably because neither one of them wanted to argue with you about it,” Ahsoka interjected. She smiled innocently in response to his glare. “…Master.” She turned from her master and faced Siri. “What can Master Skywalker and I do for him?”

“He’s going to need some clean clothes,” Siri replied. “And maybe some light food if you can find some for him.”

“We can get some soup and tea from the mess hall,” Ahsoka assured her. ~~~~

Siri nodded. “Bring it to my quarters,” she said. “He’s agreed to let a medic see him there.”

“Why doesn’t he just go to medical?” Anakin muttered. “Kriffing stubborn—“

“Obi-Wan feels he was the source of a lot of pain and aggression for the Togruta on Kadavo,” Siri replied quietly. “He is concerned his presence will make things more difficult for them, and so we reached a compromise.”

“I’m sure they don’t blame him,” Ahsoka cried, horrified. “Master Obi-Wan would never intentionally cause someone pain. And I’ve talked to the governor—they are willing to join the Republic.”

“ _We_ know that,” Siri replied gently, and shot a reassuring look at Anakin, who had opened his mouth to speak. “But I don’t know that _he_ is in the right frame of mind to hear that just now. Let’s get him cleaned and patched up, and talk with him about it after.”

Anakin started to protest, but eventually his shoulders lowered in resignation. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Master Obi-Wan is about the most stubborn man on the Council,” he muttered.

“No arguments here,” Siri agreed.

“Alright,” Anakin agreed. “We’ll do it his way. For now.” He paused to glower at Siri. “But if the medic finds anything seriously wrong with him, I will knock him unconscious and drop him in the bacta tank myself.”

“I’ll hold him down,” Ahsoka added. 

“I’ll pass that along,” Siri answered with a smile. 

****

Siri arrived at her minuscule quarters a few minutes later. She paused inside the door and listened, but did not hear the sound of the sonic shower running inside the ‘fresher. Concerned, she stepped over to the door and tapped. “Obi-Wan?”

“Come in,” replied his tired voice. The door slid open and she found him sitting fully dressed on the toilet. He offered her a rueful smile. “I appear to be having some difficulty getting my tunic off.”

She smiled sympathetically and stepped in the room. “Let me help.” Obi-Wan hesitated and flushed and Siri laughed. “Kenobi, if you search back through your memories, I believe you will recall I have seen you in far less.”

She was further amused when he blushed even brighter. “Siri— “

“Obi-Wan,” she said softly, “let me help.”

He sighed wearily, then nodded. She eased him to his feet and allowed her to unfasten the soiled and tattered tunic. His discomfort was palpable as she gently turned him and began sliding the garment off his shoulders. Siri stopped, though, when he inhaled sharply. 

“Hold on,” he said, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Slowly, he let it out. “Let’s do this on the slow side.”

She nodded and slowly, carefully eased the garment down. She bit her lip as he hissed and stifled a groan. 

As his back came into view, the reason became clear. Welts, bruises, and gashes crisscrossed his back angrily. Some of the wounds had festered, and stuck to the fabric of his tunic. Siri gasped softly, finished sliding the tunic off, and gently hovered her fingertips over the worst of the marks. “Obi-Wan,” she said softly. “What— “

He closed his eyes and exhaled. “They had whips.” 

A hot ball of anger gathered in her stomach and she struggled to extinguish it. It grew when she noticed burns forming a ring around his neck. “And collars?”

He only nodded, eyes still closed.

Mindful of his wounds, she turned him to face her. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, Obi-Wan,” she said gently. “None of this was your fault.”

“I know that in my head,” he admitted, and allowed himself the small comfort of resting his forehead against hers.

She stood for a moment, lowering her shields, and allowing warmth, comfort, and peace to flow to him through the force. She rested a palm against his bare chest, and immediately felt him flinch. It was then the noted the large bruises blooming along his ribcage. She bit her lip and looked up at him. “Shower time, Kenobi,” she said and squeezed his hand. “You’ll feel better afterwards.”

Quietly, she slipped out of the ‘fresher and into the bedroom. Behind her, she heard the sonic shower turn on and breathed a sigh of relief. She turned down the bed, mentally prepared to argue with Obi-Wan about where he would be sleeping. The shower ran only minutes before she heard it turn off. Moments later, a towel-wrapped Jedi master exited the ‘fresher looking somewhat better.

“Well,” Siri said, eyeing him and surveying the welts and bruises covering his torso. “At least you no longer have that fresh bantha smell.”

“I can’t bear the thought of putting those clothes back on,” he said, wrinkling his nose. He glanced down. “But I don’t have anything else.”

Before Siri could respond, the door chimed. “I think that might be a solution.” She slid the door open and found Anakin and Ahsoka waiting.

“Master Obi-Wan, we brought you—“Ahsoka froze just inside the door, clean clothes in her arms, and immediately averted her eyes towards the ceiling. For his part, Obi-Wan flushed a deep crimson. “Master, I am so sorry!” Blindly, Ahsoka tossed the clothing at him and scurried out of the room. “Feel better, Master Obi-Wan!” she called over her shoulder.

Obi-Wan knocked a shirt off his red face and glanced up to see a smirking Anakin carrying a tray containing soup and tea into the room. “You can deflect blaster bolts but not flying clothing?”

“I left my lightsaber in my other pants,” Obi-Wan replied dryly. “Excuse me.” And with that, he retreated back into the ‘fresher to dress.

**** 

Anakin watched his master go, his eyes fixed on the crisscross of marks across Obi-Wan’s bare back. He stood still for a moment until he realized he was gripping the tray so tightly his knuckles were white and his hands shaking. Carefully, he set the tray on a table and forced his expression into neutral lines.

When he turned, he found Siri watching him. “You’re angry,” she observed. 

“I’m fine,” he retorted dismissively. 

“It’s understandable to be angry,” she continued. Briefly, her gaze lingered on the doorway to the ‘fresher. “I am.”

Anakin folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the bulkhead. “Not very Jedi of you.”

“I have known Obi-Wan since we were younglings,” she replied. “I care about him. And I don’t like knowing that someone has intentionally hurt him.”

Anakin closed his eyes against the image of the angry welts on his master’s back. Instead, he found himself recalling moments from his childhood as a slave. Anakin shuddered, rubbed his hands over his eyes, and snapped them back open. 

Siri’s eyes narrowed in consideration. “Anakin,” she said softly. “Obi-Wan’s injuries are not your fault.”

“I should have had him out of there before they took him off to Kadavo,” Anakin shot back.

“What exactly could you have done, Anakin?” Obi-Wan spoke up from the doorway. 

Both Anakin and Siri turned to find he had re-entered the room, now dressed in loose pants and a soft shirt. “Obi-Wan,” Anakin greeted him. “Where is your tunic? I can take it to laundry.”

“On the floor,” Obi-Wan confessed with a wry smile. “It seems some of your tidiness habits have rubbed off on me.” He heaved an exhausted sigh. “As far as I’m concerned you can burn the tunic. I never want to see those particular clothes again.” He looked up at his former Padawan. “Siri is right, though. This isn’t your fault.”

Anakin shot him a disbelieving look. If not him, then who? He should have been stronger, more skilled, and freed his former master from the Zygerrian slavers – not make the situation worse and allow his master to be sent to the mines on Kadavo. 

Before he could respond, the door chimed. Anakin jumped on the welcomed interruption and opened the door to find Kix and Cody in the corridor. “General Skywalker,” Cody acknowledged with a salute. He paused and surveyed Obi-Wan carefully. “Well, General, you do at least look cleaner.”

Anakin chuckled. “Quarters are getting a little tight in here, so I’m going to go check on my Padawan and make sure she hasn’t been permanently scarred by the sight of Obi-Wan in a towel.” He paused to clap his master on the shoulder. “Take good care of him, Kix.”

He immediately regretted his foolish action. Obi-Wan stiffened under his hand and hissed out a breath mixed with a strangled grunt. Anakin’s brow furrowed, and he ignored the exclamation of protest and pressed his hand to Obi-Wan’s forehead. “You’re running a fever, Master,” he said, concerned.

“From what Rex told me of the conditions in that mine, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s fighting an infection,” Kix said as he began unpacking his medical equipment onto a small table. He glanced over his shoulder at Anakin. “I’ve got him, General.”

“I’m right here, you know,” Obi-Wan muttered. 

“Go check and make sure your Padawan hasn’t expired from mortification,” Siri said, gently nudging Anakin towards the door. “You too, Commander,” she added, this time nudging Cody. “Obi-Wan is in good hands.”

With a worried backwards glance at his Master, Anakin allowed himself to be edged out of the room.

****

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said to Siri as he dropped into a chair. “The last thing I need is Anakin hovering like a worried parent.”

“He cares about you,” Siri responded. She stepped over and gently brushed the hair back from his forehead, skimming her palm over his hot skin in the process. “And he’s right—you are running a fever.”

“Then let’s see what’s going on,” Kix interjected, and held up a small medical scanner. He ran it slowly over Obi-Wan, and then swore softly. “Several cracked ribs, a bruised lung, a mild concussion, and an infection stemming from…somewhere.” He pursed his lips as he studied the readout on the scanner.

“Likely the wounds on his back,” Siri replied. Obi-Wan shot her a mutinous glare, which she pointedly ignored.

“Honestly, General, you would be better off if I tossed you in a bacta tank for a couple of hours,” Kix said. “It would make things easier and heal faster. But,” he went on, holding up his hand against the Jedi’s protests, “I know you’re going to argue and expend necessary energy if I try to do that, so we’ll do what we can.” He looked at Siri. “You known him long?”

“Since we were children,” she said, amused.

“Has he always been so stubborn about getting medical treatment when he needs it?”

She chuckled at Obi-Wan’s outraged snort. “He has always been resistant to people fussing over him unnecessarily,” Siri said diplomatically.

Shaking his head, Kix withdrew a syringe. Obi-Wan regarded it suspiciously. “What is that? I really don’t want anything for pain.”

“It’s just an antibiotic, Sir,” Kix said. “But, General, I really should give you something for pain and fever.”

“I can meditate through it,” Obi-Wan replied.

“Sir—“ Kix protested.

“Pain medications dull our connection to the Force,” Siri stepped in. “It can be disorienting. You’d be surprised how effective meditation can be.”

Kix glanced back and forth between them, skepticism written clearly on his face. “Whatever you say, General. Now let me look at that back.”

Reluctantly, Obi-Wan turned his chair around to straddle it and slowly and carefully removed the loose shirt. Siri was privately glad he didn’t see the quick grimace of sympathy that flashed over Kix’s face. She hadn’t been exaggerating when she said he didn’t like being fussed over. As long as she had known him, Obi-Wan had been both selfless and independent. He did not like feeling like a burden on someone else. 

“General, are you _sure_ you don’t want a painkiller or a couple hours in the tank?” Kix asked. “Some of these wounds are definitely infected. I’ll need to drain them, and it won’t be pleasant.” 

Obi-Wan took a deep, steadying breath, rested his hands on the back of the chair, and closed his eyes. “Just do your best, Kix,” he replied, quietly.

Siri, too, closed her eyes and drew on the Force. Silently, she sent peace and healing towards her old friend as the medic quietly went to work. Obi-Wan was still for several moments, but as Kix continued she could feel Obi-Wan’s distress and pain begin to seep through his calm and overtake it. When she eventually heard a small, strangled gasp escape him, she opened her eyes.

Obi-Wan’s eyes were still closed, though the hands resting on the chair back trembled. His cheeks were even more flushed with exertion, and his jaw was clenched as he fought to remain in a restorative meditation. Despite herself, Siri felt her heart twist. _Stubborn man..._

Kix looked over to her helplessly, his eyes silently asking for assistance.

“Let’s try something,” she said quietly, and stepped over to Obi-Wan. His blue eyes snapped open and he looked up at her with fever-bright, exhausted eyes. She sat on the edge of the bed and gently pulled the back of the chair toward herself. “Let me help, Obi-Wan,” she said, softly.

He glanced back at Kix, who had paused in his work. Siri could feel his hesitation.

“Kenobi,” she said more firmly, “let me help or we will have to move you to medical and a bacta tank – which I know you do not want. It’s your choice.”

With a sigh, Obi-Wan nodded and closed his eyes again. Siri suspected he lacked the strength to argue. She slid further forward and gently pulled Obi-Wan to rest his head against her shoulder. Though he resisted at first, after a moment the calm, restorative energy, she pushed into him through the force took over and he began to relax.

Kix’s eyebrows winged up in surprise, and he shot a silent, questioning look at Siri. She gave a brief nod of encouragement and closed her eyes to focus her energy on Obi-Wan as Kix returned to his work. 

She could feel the fever heat rolling off him, and the exhaustion that seemed to have permeated to his bones. The war had not been kind to him, this last mission especially. Occasionally, she felt him jerk as Kix touched a particularly inflamed and painful spot among the angry welts. When he tensed, she soothed once again, and he sagged even further against her. As Kix began to apply bacta bandages to some of the worst of them, Siri heard the door slide open and a familiar presence step in.

“Is he asleep?” Anakin asked softly from the doorway.

She opened her eyes to see both Skywalker and his Padawan standing just inside the room, concerned written on both of their faces.

“‘m awake,” Obi-Wan mumbled, though he didn’t move.

“Barely,” she whispered, a small smile touching her lips. She watched as Kix affixed the last of the bacta bandages and stood. Briefly, she bushed a hand over his hot forehead whispered, “Sleep, Obi-Wan.” He didn’t have it in him to resist the quiet suggestion and any last bit of resistance he had melted—and so did he as he completely sagged against her. “Help me get him into the bed,” she whispered to the others, and Ahsoka immediately sprang forward to assist Siri in transferring her grand-master into the small bunk.

Kix packed his equipment. “I’ll be back to check on him in a couple of hours,” he said. “If that fever doesn’t break by morning, though, we may need to convince him to reconsider the tank.”

“Thanks, Kix,” Anakin said as he lifted his Master’s legs and placed them on the cool sheets. The Clone saluted, and quietly left the room.

“Master Tachi, isn’t this your bed?” Ahsoka asked, glancing around. 

Anakin snorted. “I’m pretty sure this isn’t the first time Obi-Wan has been in her bed,” he muttered devilishly.

Siri bit back a laugh at Ahsoka’s horrified glance between Obi-Wan and herself. “Anakin!” the padawan sputtered. “If he heard you say that, he would –“ 

“He would blush furiously, tell me to shut up, and quickly change the subject.” Anakin grinned wickedly. “Maybe not in those exact words, but that’s the general gist. Trust me.”

“The two of you go and get some sleep,” Siri interrupted their banter. “I’m sure after all you’ve been through you could use it.” She pulled the blanket up to cover Obi-Wan, and he instinctively rolled to his side and tugged them more tightly against him. “Obi-Wan can rest here, and I’ll keep watch over him.”

Anakin touched Ahsoka’s shoulder and nodded to the door. “Come on, Snips,” he said. “Master Tachi has him.” He then turned to Siri. “Call me if he needs anything.”

“I will,” she promised. Once Anakin and his Padawan had slipped out of the room, Siri sank to the edge of the bed, and watched Obi-Wan’s peaceful, relaxed face and steady breathing. Even sitting next to him, she could still feel the heat radiating off of him and wondered if she should have asked Kix to give him something for fever while he was still there. The fever did not seem to be disrupting the rest he so desperately needed, however, and so she let it go. Instead, she reached a hand over and gently ran her fingers through his hair. 

In his sleeping state Obi-Wan smiled, sighed once, and drowsily murmured her name.


	2. Part 2

Siri loved a starship in the middle of the night.

On the surface, it looked largely the same as it did during the day. Long, identical corridors. Bulkheads, blinking panels, and the soothing sound of the engines in the background. The view out of the portholes was often identical. 

But after hours, the lights were dimmer. The energies of the skeleton crew more subdued and peaceful. Most of the bustling daytime crew had retired to sleep for the night, leaving in their wake a silence that in many ways offered her a respite after a busy day. It made it easier for her to sleep.

Since she had given Obi-Wan her bunk, though, she really had no conventional place to rest. She had briefly considered trying to take a nap stretched across the two chairs in her sparse quarters, but just as quickly as the thought entered her mind, she had rejected it. That was a sure way to earn a sore back, achy joints, and a disgruntled disposition. 

Instead, she settled on the floor in a lotus pose, closed her eyes, and relaxed into a restorative meditation. Her breathing was deep and even, and she drew on the Force around her to fortify and renew her energy. All the while she had one ear tuned to Obi-Wan: the rhythm of his breathing, the occasional soft mumbling in his sleep. 

She sincerely hoped he slept straight through. One needed only look at him to know he desperately needed the rest. Siri had been worried about the dark circles beneath his blue eyes, and the hollowness of his cheeks below his soft beard. Injury and infection aside, she decided, rest and then food was what the Jedi Master needed most.

At first, she thought she might have imagined the soft moan that came from the bed. Her eyes snapped open and she watched Obi-Wan carefully. His hand rested on the pillow in front of his face, fisted loosely around a section of blanket. He didn’t move for a long moment and she was on the verge of settling back into her meditation when he frowned in his sleep and mumbled. 

“No, don’t...”

Siri stood and cautiously approached the bed. Obi-Wan clutched the blanket tighter in his fist and murmured again, this time incoherently.

“Obi-Wan,” Siri said softly in hopes of easing him awake.

“Leave him alone,” he muttered. “My fault...”

Siri sat on the edge of the bed and gently ran her hand up and down his bare arm. “Obi-Wan,” she said again, a little louder. “Kenobi.”

He grunted and furrowed his brows.

Siri frowned in concern, as he was beginning to sound distressed. “Please, leave him alone.” He briefly buried his face in the pillow. “...me instead.”

This time she brushed his hair away from his face. “Obi-Wan,” she said more firmly. “Wake up.”

“No!” he abruptly cried and thrashed over to his back. Siri could tell he immediately regretted the movements, as he bolted upright, doubling over in pain, cradling his ribs.

“Hey, hey,” she said softly, smoothing his hair back. She was alarmed by how hot he felt, and briefly bit her lip. “Obi-Wan, you’re safe. You’re on a Republic starship. You’re in my room, and you’re safe.”

He took several steadying breaths before he lifted his head to look up at her. “What time is it?” He asked blearily.

“Late,” she replied. “Or early, depending on how you look at it.” She reached over and poured him a glass of water from a pitcher next to the bed. She pressed the cup into his hand. “Drink.” 

To his credit, he didn’t argue. He drank deeply from the cup, drained it, and returned it wordlessly to the table.

“Bad dream?” Siri asked.

He merely nodded and closed his eyes. He breathed long, slow, and deeply while Siri ran a hand soothingly up and down his thigh. “I’m alright,” he finally said, opening his eyes again.

“I somehow doubt that,” she replied, frowning. 

“Do you remember where my shirt landed?” Obi-Wan glanced around the room, then gingerly pulled the blankets up around his shoulders. “It’s freezing in here.”

“No, it’s not.” Alarmed, she picked the shirt up from the floor and helped him slide it over his head. “You’re feverish.”

“Keep your voice down,” he said wearily. “You’ll have Anakin in here fussing about the bacta tank.”

“I’m not so sure Anakin would be wrong.” Siri poured him another cup of water and pushed it into his hand. “I’m worried about you, Kenobi.” Tenderly, she smoothed the hair back from his forehead. “You’re burning up and clearly in pain. You’re pale. And your sleep is troubled.”

He took a sip of the water. “Siri, I don’t want to be a burden on anyone.”

Unable to stop herself, she closed the distance between them and brushed her lips lightly against his. “You are never a burden.”

“I feel like it right now,” he took another deep drink of the water, grimaced, and set cup aside. Gingerly, he pulled the blanket up around his shoulders, then wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. 

“You should try to sleep more,” Siri suggested.

He closed his eyes and groaned shakily. His brow furrowed—either in concentration or discomfort.

Siri watched him closely as she settled back into her chair. Perhaps they could both rest again – for a little while at least.

The little while did not last long at all. Obi-Wan abruptly began rapidly gulping air. She quickly sat up straight and laid a soothing hand on his. “Kenobi?”

“I think I drank the water too quickly,” he said. He slowly inhaled through his nose and blew it out, then quickly shook his head. “Siri, I’m going to—“ He abruptly cut himself off and gestured vaguely to the room.

“Right.” Siri held a hand out and used the force to send a trash bin flying across the small room. She shoved it wordlessly into Obi-Wan’s lap, and he didn’t hesitate before he dropped his head and emptied the contents of his stomach.

Siri winced and murmured softly that she would be right back. She hurried to the ‘fresher and soaked a cloth with cool water. Giving him some privacy with his misery was less about her finding relief for him, and more about keeping his pride somewhat intact. When she returned, he seemed to have finished. He still gripped the bin tightly, resting his head against the back of one of his hands. Gently, she rested the cool cloth over the back of his neck. “You okay?”

“Give me a moment,” he managed. 

Siri started to rub his back soothingly, but caught herself when she remembered the fiery wounds. Instead, she rhythmically ran her fingers through his hair and listened as his breathing slowed and normalized. Finally, he lifted his head and Siri moved the cloth to wipe his face. 

“Thank you,” he said softly. He picked the cup back up from the table next to the bed and rinsed his mouth. “I don’t mind saying,” he said, placing the bin back in the floor. “I haven’t felt this awful in some time.”

She helped him lie back down on the bed. “Are you ready to reconsider calling Kix? There’s no shame in asking for something for pain and fever.”

He covered his eyes with a hand, exhaled in defeat, and nodded wordlessly.

Siri pressed the button on her communicator. “Come in, Kix.”

A moment later, the clone’s voice filled the room. “Yes, Master Tachi?”

“Would you kindly bring the General something to alleviate his fever?” She rested a hand on Obi-Wan’s calf and rubbed it reassuringly. “And maybe something for nausea.”

Kix chuckled, prompting Obi-Wan to frown. “Re-think the situation, did he?” 

“Kriff you, Kix,” Obi-Wan mumbled. 

“Oh, he is feeling it,” the medic replied, unperturbed by his patient’s attitude. “Yeah, I’ll be there in just a minute.”

The communicator clicked off and Obi-Wan snorted. “So much fuss over—“

“If you say ‘nothing’,” Siri interrupted pleasantly, “I will go wake Anakin and Ahsoka, and we will dump you in a bacta tank. Now shut it.”

He lifted his fingers and peered up at her. “So rude,” he observed. She was relieved to see a bit of mischievous twinkle in his eye. He sighed and covered his face again. “I’m surprised Anakin isn’t in here already, hovering.”

Siri paused and stretched out in the Force. She could sense Anakin and Ahsoka nearby, and Anakin’s worry over his former master’s condition. “I think in his own way, he is hovering,” she said quietly. “He’s just doing it from a distance so you don’t kick at him. He’s giving you space.”

“At least he learned something from training under me all those years.”

“Such as how unbelievably grumpy you are when you don’t feel well?” Siri smiled sweetly when he glared up at her. “I’ve seen krayt dragons with a sunnier disposition.” 

“Your concern is deeply moving,” he said dryly. He shifted uncomfortably and winced, his hand moving to his ribs.

“Breathe,” Siri soothed, lacing her fingers through his. “Release the pain. Focus.” She took a steadying breath herself, pushing away her concern with an exhale. Unconsciously, she rubbed her thumb along the back of his hand. “I really wish Master Che was here right about now.”

“You can never tell her I said this,” Obi-Wan said, eyes closed and breathing slow. “But I do too.” 

A chirp sounded at the door, and a rush of relief passed through Siri. “Come in,” she called.

Kix stepped through the door carrying a bag of medical equipment. He surveyed Obi-Wan critically, his brows raising in surprise when his gaze rested on the hand linked with Siri’s. 

Obi-Wan seemingly paid the clone medic’s shock no mind. “Don’t lecture me about bacta tanks.” 

“I promise nothing, General,” Kix replied. He pulled out his medical scanner and again used it to evaluate the Jedi’s condition. “I don’t like how high that fever is, sir.” 

“I assure you, neither do I.” Obi-Wan looked up warily when Kix removed a bag of liquid from his supplies. “What is that for?”

“We need to get some fluids in you,” Kix replied firmly. “And some more intensive antibiotics.”

Obi-Wan attempted to pull away when his eyes rested on a needle Kix produced from his inventory. Siri held his hand more firmly. “If you won’t agree to go to Medical, he has to bring Medical to you,” she said quietly. 

“She’s right, General,” Kix added.

He sighed, closed his eyes, and held his free hand out to Kix. The clone rolled his eyes in mild amusement, and quickly started the IV to push fluids and antibiotics. “There,” he said. “Not so bad.”

Eyes still firmly shut, Obi-Wan snorted. “If you’re okay with having a foreign object stuck in your hand.”

“You know, you really are a terrible patient,” Siri pointed out. “It’s no wonder Master Che is usually willing to discharge you early from the Halls of Healing when you’re admitted. You wear her down with sheer obstinance and sullen noncompliance.”

Obi-Wan peeked up at her, guilty mischief dancing in his fever-bright eyes.

Her own eyes widened, jaw dropping. “You do it on purpose! You know if you act poorly enough, she’ll get tired of it and give in!”

“You can never tell her,” he said, as Kix began to chuckle.

“Here you go, General,” Kix said, attaching a syringe to the IV and injecting it. Obi-Wan winced briefly, but then began to relax. “That will help with the fever and the pain, and I added something for the nausea.”

“Thank you, Kix,” Obi-Wan replied. “I know I have been difficult, and I’m sorry for that. I shouldn’t kick at you for trying to help me.”

Siri raised a brow and looked over at Kix. “What did you put in that?” 

He gazed thoughtfully at the syringe. “I thought it was a basic pain killer with an anti-nausea additive, but now I’m wondering.” He turned his attention to Obi-Wan. “Can I get you to say that again so I can record it? Rex and Cody won’t believe me if I tell them you said it.”

The General chuckled drowsily, his eyelids beginning to droop. Kix took a quick moment to check the bandages on his back, and pull the blanket back up over him. “Get some rest, Sir. You’ll feel better.”

Obi-Wan nodded slightly, eyes drifting closed. Siri continued to hold his hand until it went slack in hers, and then she gently released it. Instinctively, Obi-Wan mumbled softly in his sleep and brought it up to rest on the pillow in front of his face. Soon, he had slipped into a deep, medicine-induced sleep.

Kix caught Siri’s eye and jerked his head towards the door. She nodded, smoothed the blanket over her friend, and followed him out into the corridor.

“Hold on,” Kix said. “I want to talk to you and General Skywalker both.” He lifted his wrist and activated his comm. “General, this is Kix. Can I talk to you for a minute? I’m outside of General Ke— I mean, Master Tachi’s quarters.”

Anakin’s reply came instantly. “Be right there, Kix.”

“Is everything okay?” Siri asked. 

Kix frowned. “I hope so. But we’ll see.”

Anakin quickly appeared from around a corner. “Is Obi-Wan okay? I thought I felt...” He trailed off and started to open the door and burst into the room.

Siri caught his arm to stop him. “He had a nightmare,” she replied. “He finally agreed to having something for pain and fever, and he’s sleeping now. Let him rest, Anakin.”

He sighed and dragged a hand through his hair. “Alright,” he relented.

“General, Master...” Kix paused and glanced at the door. “I’m a little worried. With the amount of antibiotics I’ve given him, General Kenobi should be showing at least some improvement. But he doesn’t seem to be.”

Anakin folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the bulkhead. “Do we need to sedate him and get him into a bacta tank?”

“Right now all the tanks are full,” Kix admitted. “We have a lot of injured and sick Togruta who needed it. Because the General is so kriffing stubborn, he would have to wait.”

Siri, too, wrapped her arms around herself and leaned back against the door. “He needs a healer,” she said softly. “A healing trance would help both the body and the mind.”

“What’s wrong with his mind?” Anakin asked sharply.

“I told you he had a nightmare,” she replied. “It seemed like he was reliving some of what happened in the mines.” Siri sighed and glanced over her shoulder. “He’s been through an ordeal, Anakin. I think some needed healing is to be expected.”

Anakin rubbed his forehead. “I should have got him out of there faster. If I had just—“

Kix held up a hand. “From what Rex has told me there’s nothing anyone could have done differently, General. Don’t beat yourself up over it.” He looked down to study his medical scanner. “If he’s struggling with what happened in there, it could be hampering his recovery. Let’s monitor him over the next few hours and see how he does, but...” Kix trailed off and shrugged. “I’m a medic, not a doctor. And definitely not a Jedi healer. Honestly, I might feel a little better if we could get him to the Temple.”

“If it comes down to it, I can take him,” Siri volunteered. “I have a ship of my own with me in the hangar and haven’t been given a new assignment yet. I was planning to move on to the temple anyway once I refueled and rested. I decided to stay so I could help Obi-Wan.” She looked up at Anakin. “And I’m happy to stay as long as he needs, and the Council will allow.”

Anakin studied her for several moments, then finally nodded. “Okay. We monitor him for a few hours, and if he doesn’t improve you take him home to Master Che.”

“I like that plan,” Kix said. “To be honest, I might feel better if he was with your Master Che anyway.” He offered a crooked grin. “She seems much better-prepared to deal with his kriffing stubborn ass.”

“Prepared to take care of him, sure,” Anakin said. “Mentally prepared to deal with his stubbornness..? Well…”

“Obi-Wan’s feelings on being confined to the Halls of Healing in the Temple are somewhat legendary,” Siri added with a smile. “He and Master Che are fond of one another, but it’s a sort of adversarial affection.”

“Keep me updated,” Kix said, saluted Anakin, and strode down the corridor. 

Siri slipped quietly back into the room with Anakin on her heels. Obi-Wan hadn’t so much as moved in the few minutes she had been gone. 

“What do you think?” Anakin asked softly. “Should we take him to the Temple?”

She studied Obi-Wan’s face, so familiar to her. The slightly fuller upper lip. Seemingly ever-present faint smile. Furrowed lines between his eyes. She resisted the urge to smooth his hair back again. “It’s difficult to say, Anakin,” she said quietly and turned to look at him. “It’s not the worst I’ve ever seen him. Not as bad as it was after Geonosis. The speeder bike crash and explosion a few weeks later.” Her face hardened and she unconsciously bit her lip. “And when he came back from that mission with Bail Organa.”

“I didn’t see him until a couple weeks after that mission,” Anakin said, “but I heard it was bad. And you’re right – this isn’t nearly as bad as those were. But…”

“But,” Siri agreed. “I think he is holding on to something that happened down there that is, as Kix suggested, hampering his recovery.” She fell silent for a moment, once again watching Obi-Wan. “Maybe Master Che would be the person best equipped to help him. Healing talents were just not something I’ve ever had great aptitude for.”

They both fell silent for several minutes, content to just contemplate the situation. “It’s odd, you know, sitting here and talking with you,” Anakin finally spoke up. “We’ve gone on the odd mission together over the years, but I haven’t spent that much time with you. One-on-one, that is. Yet here you are, as soon as Obi-Wan needs something, you drop everything and stay.” He paused and appeared to think over what he wanted to say next. “Are you… are you in love with him?”

Siri blinked and darted her eyes to rest on the younger Jedi. “In love with him?” She sat back in her chair, contemplating the question. “Where did that come from?”

Anakin suppressed a grin. “I lived with Obi-Wan for ten years while I was his Padawan. I knew when he had people over to visit.”

She glared briefly at him, cheeks flushing traitorously. “I care deeply about him,” she said carefully. “But,” she added and shook her head slowly, “both of us are committed to the order. We took an oath. We both know that oath means our duties and responsibilities come above anything else. While we can care about each other and enjoy one another’s company…” she shrugged helplessly, “that’s all that can ever come from it, Anakin.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

Curiously, she studied him. “It seems like it bothers you. What is this about Anakin? Obi-Wan’s and my relationship has to do with the two of us – it has nothing to do with you.”

Anakin sighed restlessly. “Never mind.” He rubbed his palms against his thighs. “Look, why don’t you trade off with me a while? You have to be tired, and I’ve had some sleep. I can sit with Obi-Wan and catch up on field reports while you get some food and real rest.” He gestured to the corridor beyond the door. “I’m crashing on the bottom bunk of a room with Ahsoka down the hall. She’s passed out, so you won’t bother her. You can take my bed since Obi-Wan has yours.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, reluctant to leave. “I don’t mind staying.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” He offered a small smile. “I don’t think I could sleep right now anyway.” 

Nodding, she stood. “Alright.” She stepped over and brushed her hand gently over Obi-Wan’s head, still hot beneath her palm. “Call me if he needs anything.” And with that, she slipped out of the room and into the corridor to find food and rest.


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a fun fact about me...
> 
> I'm an adult with ADHD. As a result, I don't ALWAYS know exactly where that line is. You know, the line that shouldn't really be crossed? I've gone back and forth with myself several times over whether or not to keep the end part of this chapter. I did finally decide to keep it, but I'm still not sure if it's too much. So... your thoughts?

_Pain exploded in his back over and over again. The blows rained down so quickly_ _,_ _Obi-Wan could not catch his breath. Instinctively, he fought to spin around to deflect the whip. To reach for his lightsaber and cut off the vicious tendril before it sliced through his back again. But his weapon_ _was gone, and Obi-Wan’s wrists were bound, chained to the wall before him._

_“Well? Who is he?”_

_A new voice behind him joined_ _that of_ _his tormenter, bringing with it a pause in the lashes. Relieved, he sagged in his chains and struggled to breathe._

_“He hasn’t talked. But I’ll loosen his tongue.”_

_Obi-Wan_ _cried out as another lash struck him between the shoulders. Desperately he fought to stretch out into the Force and find peace and calm, but he couldn’t concentrate. He couldn’t focus. The blows came too fast, too intensely._

_“Why would a slaver try to rescue a slave from the palace? It’s suicide.”_

_Another blow. And another. One struck Obi-Wan in the center of his spine and he arched his back_ _, crying_ _out helplessly._

_“Wait. I know you from hologram.”_

_There was a pause in the unrelenting punishment, and he could have_ _sobbed_ _with relief. Before he could get his bearings, however, a rough hand tangled in his hair and jerked his head ruthlessly back. A Zygerrian peered down into his face. Obi-Wan felt a surge of anger and resentment when the creature began to smile triumphantly, his fingers twisting tighter in his hair with one hand, the other brutally grabbing Obi-Wan under the chin._

_“I never forget a Jedi.”_

**“** **…** **Obi-Wan. Come on. You need to wake up** **...** **”**

_“My people, we have found them.”_

_Sunlight blinded him as he moved from the darkened transporter and into the Kadavo daylight. Obi-Wan squinted and hesitated in the doorway. Jedi training took over, and he surveyed his new surroundings and assess_ _ed_ _the situation._

_“Keep moving, skug.”_

_He was abruptly shoved from behind and briefly_ _stumbled_ _before he regained his footing. He was exhausted, hungry, and every inch of his body ached. Longingly, he thought of the peace of the Jedi Temple, and the comfortable bed in his quarters._

_How long before he would see it again?_

_A smug Zygerrian on_ _a_ _levitating throne swept in front of them, his piercing eyes fixed on Obi-Wan._

_“General Kenobi, you are the first Jedi I have entertained at our educational center. Few possess a Jedi's resolve, and it is strength of will that is my greatest enemy.”_

_Dozens of Togruta were lined up in front of him, and Obi-Wan felt a rush of delight and superiority pouring off of the Zygerrian overseer. He barely had time to process what was about to happen when the floor dropped out from below an entire row of innocent Togruta, plunging them into the nothingness below._

_His heart plunged with them._

_Obi-Wan wanted desperately to_ _lash_ _out. Instinctively his hand reached for his side... and he remembered his lightsaber was not there. White-hot anger boiled up inside him, mixing with the horror of what he had just witnessed. In the back of his mind, the mantra he had learned as a youngling surged through his mind and he angrily shoved it aside._

_Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering._

_“Now that I have your attention, Jedi, be aware that it will not be you who suffers should you defy me.”_

**“** **…Obi-Wan.** **Please, Master, you need to wake up** **..** **.”**

_“Obi-Wan Kenobi, once a Jedi master, now a Jedi slave. Pitiful.”_

_Anger and resentment whipped through him, though he pointedly ignored his captor. As though he sensed the dismissal, the Zygerrian lashed out with a whip and connected it with an unsuspecting Togruta nearby._

_“Keep eyes on your toil, skug!”_

_Obi-Wan took a steadying breath and glanced next to him where Rex worked steadily._

_“Everything about this place is designed to shatter the will. It has already begun to affect_ _hese poor people.”_

_Pain exploded through him when the hated whip connected with his shock collar, sending dizzying waves of electricity coursing through his neck and body._

_“Speech is forbidden!”_

_Fighting to catch his breath, Obi-Wan held up his hands in surrender and crouched._

_“I'm sorry. It won't happen again.”_

_“There will be punishment!”_

_Gleefully, the Zygerrian lashed out his whip to the Togruta again. A mix of outrage and dismay coursed through the Jedi, and he lunged forward to step between them._

_“No, stop, it's my mistake! Leave him alone!”_

_“Now a slave gives me commands?”_ _Again_ _the slavemaster_ _rained blows down on the already weakened Togruta._

_Guilt, shame, panic, and hatred welled up in a red ball inside of Obi-Wan’s belly. For an instant, he was not in a mine on Kadavo, but with Bail Organa on the Sith planet of Zigoola and the Dark Side of the Force_ _was pressing_ _dangerously in on him from all sides._

_Die Jedi. Die Jedi. Die Jedi._

_“Beg! Beg me before this one dies because of you!”_

_Obi-Wan fought to quell his anger and_ _fell_ _submissively to his hands and knees. Pain shot through his already aching legs, and he dropped his gaze humiliatingly to the ground._

_“Please. Forgive me, Master.”_

_He expected another volley of blows to fly out at him again. Instead, the Zygerrian strode casually away, laughing to himself with smug delight. The Jedi watched him go, struggling against his anger and resentment before he turned to assist the Togruta who had been punished in his stead._

_To his surprise and horror, the man cringed away in fear._

_“Keep away from me. Jedi only make things worse.”_

**“** **…** **Obi-Wan!”**

He jolted awake and glanced wildly around, fully expecting to see the filthy, cramped conditions of the mine on Kadavo. It took him a few pounding heartbeats to realize he was indeed in cramped quarters – but a bunk on the _Resolute_. Fighting to catch his breath, he looked up to see the concerned face of his former padawan peering down at him.

Anakin squeezed Obi-Wan’s arm soothingly. “Take a deep breath, Obi-Wan,” he said. “You’re safe. We got you out of there.”

Obi-Wan buried his face in the pillow and nodded, focusing his attention on slowing his breathing back to a normal pace. Force, every inch of him hurt: his back, his ribs, his head. He tried to focus, to form a coherent sentence but the room spun as his stomach churned. At length he lifted his head and peered blearily around the room. “Siri?” he asked, confused. She had been there when he had fallen asleep.

“We switched out,” Anakin answered. “I sent her to catch some sleep and food.” He studied Obi-Wan’s face intently. “Nightmare? Or memory?”

“A bit of both,” he managed hoarsely. He cleared his throat and winced, mouth dry as the desert of Tatooine. He eyed the cup dubiously when Anakin filled it with fresh water and held it out to him. Finally he sighed, pushed himself to sitting with a groan, accepted the cup and took a tentative sip. “Thank you.”

“Are you feeling any better?” Anakin asked. 

“If anything, I think I feel a bit worse,” Obi-Wan admitted. “The pain is a bit more difficult to ignore.” He didn’t add that he felt both hot and cold at the same time, and he hadn’t quite decided if the water would stay down. “Don’t start lecturing me about a bacta tank,” he added. “I’ll be fine.”

His former padawan snorted. “Sure you will.” The younger man leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and dropping his hands between them. “Obi-Wan, I’m so sorry.”

“I meant what I said yesterday,” Obi-Wan replied. “It wasn’t your fault.” He coughed and ignored the concern that passed Anakin’s face. “What do you suppose you could have done that would have changed anything?”

The stubborn lift of Anakin’s chin was so familiar Obi-Wan could hardly suppress a smile. “I should have been able to rescue you from that slaver scum,” he insisted. “I should have fought them off, executed a better plan, and had the whole thing wrapped up before they sent you off to the mines.”

“Anakin,” the older man said wearily, “I was in that fight. We were outnumbered. There is nothing either of us could have done differently.” He closed his eyes and willed the room to stop swirling. “Sometimes, Anakin, we do all we can and have to accept the outcome.”

“Even when that outcome means someone we care about is hurt?”

“Even then.” Tired, feverish eyes rested on Anakin. “We are not always responsible for what happens to those we care about.”

Anakin appeared to digest and accept his master’s words, for his expression became thoughtful. “You know, you should consider listening to your own advice…”

He frowned. “Meaning?”

“Meaning you, Obi-Wan, are not responsible for what happened to the Togruta.”

Inwardly he groaned. He wanted desperately to lean his aching head back against the bulkhead behind the bed. That would mean pressing his screaming back into it, though, and so he set his water down and stretched out on the bed on his side.

“Responsible? No,” Obi-Wan answered. “But that does not change the fact that my presence made the already difficult situation harder for them.” He sighed tiredly. “I am not avoiding them out of guilt. I simply do not want to be a reminder of what happened.”

“What’s the difference?” Anakin asked, frustration in his voice.

“The difference is compassion versus responsibility,” Obi-Wan replied patiently. “I feel compassion for what the Togruta have been through, but I recognize I was not responsible - the Zygerrian slavers were at fault.”

Anakin studied him for a long, silent moment. “Then what _is_ troubling you?”

“Other than the assortment of aches and pains, the fever, and the nausea?”

“Master- Obi-Wan,” he caught himself and corrected quickly, “you trained me. You raised me. I can sense something is bothering you.” He leaned forward. “You can talk to me.” 

_“Come now, Master Kenobi. I know a Jedi won’t kill an unarmed man.”_

_The red-hot anger boiled_ _with_ _in him, and Obi-Wan tightened his grip on the hilt of his lightsaber. Every lash and electrical jolt he had suffered at the hands of these creatures reverberated through his memory. The startled cries of the murdered Togruta as they plummeted through the floor. The pain and anguish_ _pouring from_ _them in the mines each time they were beaten on his behalf. He didn’t just want this creature held accountable for his actions - he wanted him to pay. Each memory, each ache, each pain fueled the rage that_ _bubbled_ _through him and darkened the edges of his connection to the force._

_That blackness taunted him, urging him to lash out with his blade and make his opponent pay. Reminded him how good it would feel to swing the saber out and slice through the Zygerrian, silencing that taunting, menacing laugh..._

“Obi-Wan?”

His eyes snapped open, but he immediately had to close them again when the room began to swim. The nearness of the memory of that battle on Kadavo had pressed hard against him, making him dizzy and nauseous.

“Where did you go?” Anakin asked. “Anger was rolling off of you.”

“On Kadavo,” Obi-Wan answered, eyes still closed. “I was extremely angry over... well, everything.” Slowly, he opened his eyes, finally settling his gaze on his young friend. “I was too close, Anakin. Much too close to the edge.”

Anakin hesitated, appeared taken aback. “But you didn’t go over?”

“Only by the grace of Rex stepping in and dealing with the situation on my behalf.” Obi-Wan coughed again and pulled the blanket tighter around him.

Anakin grew quiet and thoughtful for a moment, then rubbed the back of his head. “I want to help you, I do,” he said. “But I may not exactly be the best one to go to for things like that. Maybe you should talk to someone else. Siri, could be a good option?” He paused, mischief twinkling in his eyes. “What’s going on with you two anyway?”

“What do you mean?” Obi-Wan asked absently. He cautiously took a sip of his water and paused, waiting to make sure it would not resurface.

“I mean, she dropped pretty much everything to be by your side in your time of need,” Anakin said dramatically, flashing a lopsided grin. “I don’t know many who would do that – except maybe the Duchess of Mandalore.”

Obi-Wan’s already flushed cheeks grew even hotter. “What are you talking about?”

“Does Siri know about Satine?”

Grunting, Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “There is nothing for Siri to know about Satine or vice versa.”

“For a man committed to a way of life that forbids attachments, you sure have a lot of women lined up, Obi-Wan.” 

A fresh bout of coughing seized Obi-Wan briefly, and he curled tighter onto his side. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” he grumbled, cheeks flushing both from embarrassment and exertion. ~~~~

Anakin’s brow furrowed as he glanced at the chrono on the wall, and Obi-Wan ignored the obvious concern. “Yeah, I’m supposed to go check in with the Council. I’ll send Snips – I mean Ahsoka in to sit with you.”

“I am not a youngling,” Obi-Wan mumbled, burrowing into his blankets. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“You’re getting one anyway.” Anakin rose. “I’m going to send Kix in to check on you again, too.”

“Fine, fine.” Obi-Wan waved dismissively at him.

He pretended not to see as Anakin paused in the doorway to give him one last worried look before he disappeared into the corridor.

* * *

Ahsoka wasn’t sure if Obi-Wan was legitimately sleeping when she slipped into the room or if he was merely pretending so she wouldn’t fuss over him. She briefly contemplated stepping closer to the bed to check, but ultimately decided to give him his peace. Instead, she placed the tray with a bowl of soup covered by a warming dome on the table and settled herself into a chair to read a datapad. As a Padawan, it was expected she would keep up with Temple studies as well as field combat training, and she had some catching up to do.

Early Republic history, however, was not her favorite subject. She found it dry and tedious compared to battle strategies and lightsaber practice. She sighed heavily and forced herself to re-read the same paragraph for the third time, trying her best to commit the information to memory.

“Anakin hated Temple studies when he was a Padawan too.”

Her large blue eyes snapped up and rested on Obi-Wan, who was peering at her from the bed with a small, bemused smirk on his lips.

“I _thought_ you were awake,” she said, gratefully tossing the datapad on the table. She held up her hands in surrender. “I promise I will not fuss, fret, or mention medical if you promise not to make me read anything else about galactic history.” The Padawan wrinkled her nose. “I don’t understand why we have to learn that anyway.”

“There’s a lot to be learned from the mistakes we’ve made in the past,” Obi-Wan stated. He tried to stretch, winced, and rested his palm against his ribcage while he closed his eyes.

Ahsoka bit her lip briefly and thought about calling for Kix. “Yes, Master Yoda,” she shot back instead.

“No,” Obi-Wan retorted mildly, eyes still closed. “Master Yoda would have said something else.” He paused, brow furrowing in consideration. “Much to learn from the past, we have.”

She could not suppress the short, startled laugh that escaped her lips. “Are you drunk?” she asked. “Or possibly have a concussion?”

“Well, yes,” he admitted. “I _am_ concussed. In this case, though, I believe the fever is beginning to get to me.” He rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. “And my head hurts.”

Feeling helpless, Ahsoka removed the warming dome from the soup. “I brought you something to eat.”

Obi-Wan grimaced and shook his head. “No, thank you.” He shifted and pressed his lips tightly together. “I don’t think I can manage to eat anything just yet.”

“Master,” she said gently as she re-covered the bowl, “why don’t you let me help you down to Medical?”

“Ahoska, I do not want to be a burden on your people, and a reminder of what they have been through.”

“I’ve spoken to Governor Roshti,” she said earnestly. “They don’t blame you for what happened.”

“I know that, Ahsoka.” The corners of his mouth turned up in a faint smile. “But that does not mean my presence will not be a reminder to _them_ of what they have been through – or that theirs will not be a reminder to _me_.”

That gave the Padawan pause and she studied him in consideration. Though she had seen him injured and combating battle fatigue often enough to know he was not invincible, it was easy to think of Master Obi-Wan as such. He handled everything that came his way with such a grace and unflappable aplomb that she simply didn’t stop to consider his struggles.

_As it should be_ , she had to admit to herself. He was a Jedi Master. He sat on the High Council. He was a General in the Grand Army of the Republic. Obi-Wan was an example to the rest of them, a role she knew he took seriously. He should be impervious to hurt or damage. Obi-Wan _should not_ be vulnerable. Yet here he was, lying injured and ill and all but admitting he was wrestling with a mission that had gone completely awry.

Events that, whether he would admit it to himself or not, he must feel the burden of responsibility for.

Ahsoka sighed heavily, the conversation she had with Master Tachi a short while before playing in her mind. “Master,” she finally said softly, “would it be easier for you if you returned to the Temple and into the Halls of Healing?”

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan replied quietly. “Part of me thinks yes – I would be able to rest and recover in quiet and under Master Che’s care.” He sighed heavily and dropped his head on the pillow in exhaustion. “But all the while I would be worrying about what was happening here. I have responsibilities.” Faint mischief twinkled in his eyes. “Someone has to keep you and Anakin in line.”

“Does anyone _really_ keep Anakin in line?” she asked dryly, folding her arms over her chest.

He laughed, then cringed. The cough that escaped his lips deeply concerned her. “I have been trying to keep Anakin in line for many years, and have not yet managed to succeed.”

Ahsoka chuckled, then leaned forward. “Master, Anakin and I do need you – whole, safe, and in one piece. If you need to spend some time with Master Che, neither of us would blame you. Honestly,” she went on, “I think the both of us would feel better.”

“Why is everyone fussing so much?” he wondered, grumpily.

“Because you look awful,” Ahsoka replied frankly. “And it’s obvious you feel it, too. Anakin is worried about you, Cody is worried about you, everyone on the ship seems to be worried about you – except you.” She shot him the same brow-raised, withering gaze she often gave her mentor. “If you don’t do something drastic, I can’t promise Anakin – I mean Master Skywalker – won’t tie you up and drag you to Master Che himself.”

Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, which quickly escalated into a full-blown coughing fit. He curled tightly, groaning when the episode subsided, hand pressed to his chest.

“Master!” Ahsoka cried, alarmed. She leaped up and hastily poured a cup of water. “Here, take a sip of this.” She frowned when he shook his head. “Master Obi-Wan,” she continued, gently, “just a little. It will help, and a tiny bit shouldn’t upset your stomach.”

Eyes still closed, he grumbled but nodded. Ahsoka helped him sit up slightly and guided his hand as he lifted the cup to his lips and took a cautious sip. Obi-Wan then held the cool cup to his hot brow for a moment, then nodded briefly before taking another hesitant drink.

“Better?” Ahsoka asked, taking the cup from him.

He nodded again and collapsed back on the bed. “Some,” he managed.

Ahsoka studied him and pressed her lips together. Carefully, she stretched out in the Force and found his shields almost non-existent. His pain, worry, and exhaustion blared out at her, causing tears to spring to her eyes. Of all the Jedi in the Order, Obi-Wan was one she held in the highest esteem. It hurt deeply to see her grandmaster in so much misery.

“Do you want me to get Kix for you?” she asked quietly.

Obi-Wan grimaced, then nodded once. “Please.”

* * *

Siri and Anakin sat across from one another in companionable silence in the mess hall, data pads and bowls of stew in front of each. Anakin was engrossed in reading field reports from his men, while Siri indulged herself in a Corellian adventure novel. Around the room were a scattering of troops, but by unspoken agreement everyone kept to themselves. 

Siri sensed a shift in Anakin at the sound of footsteps and looked up from her data pad to find Ahsoka striding across the room towards them. She stopped at the end of their table and peered suspiciously into their bowls.

“What‘s on the menu?” asked the Padawan.

Siri considered her own bowl. “Stew - I think.”

“What kind?”

“Reconstituted protein and salt,” Anakin replied. “Maybe a hint of a smoky flavor.”

“It’s not half bad if you don’t think too hard about it. Or look at it,” Siri added with a shrug.

“Military food,” Ahsoka sighed, and headed off to get her own bowl.

Anakin glanced anxiously back towards the door and then over to his Padawan. Siri dropped her spoon in the bowl and reached over to touch his arm. “I’m sure she didn’t leave him alone,” she said, softly so not to be overheard. “Let her get some food, then she can update us on how he is doing.”

Anakin nodded reluctantly. “Okay, okay. I won’t run down the ball and bust into his room – yet.”

A moment later his Padawan plopped down next to him. She started to raise a bite to her lips but froze halfway, clearly feeling Anakin’s eyes boring into her. She raised a brow and shot her Master a withering look. “No, I did not leave Master Obi-Wan alone. Kix is with him and said he would stay until one of us got there. He needed to check him over and change bandages anyway.” If it were possible for Ahsoka to blush, Siri was fairly sure she would have. “Since changing the bandages involved removing clothing, I thought I’d find somewhere else to be.”

Anakin rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward, grinning. “Snips, you have been on dozens of missions with me and the rest of the 501st. You’ve seen many of us in stages of dress and undress, shared barracks with us, heard crude and rude stories around campfires, and even cracked a few jokes of your own. Why are you completely unfazed by all of that, but Obi-Wan without a shirt embarrasses you?”

Siri spooned up another bite of stew and laughed as Ahsoka’s eyes widened. “Because it’s _Master Obi-Wan_! I feel like I’m intruding on something.” Ahsoka thoughtfully spooned up her own bite of stew and sampled it. “I guess I always think of him as...” She paused to consider the right word. “Proper? Maybe a little innocent? He’s always so… polished. Hair in place, clothes all neat and tidy.”

Anakin snorted a laugh and slanted a glance at Siri. “Do you want to take this one, Master Tachi?” 

Siri suddenly became extremely interested in the remains of her stew.

Ahsoka looked back and forth between them, her expression a mix of shock, horror, and fascination. “Skyguy, you’re joking when you make those comments about Master Obi-Wan and master Tachi... right?”

Choking on a bite of stew, Siri reached for her water and took a drink while Anakin laughed. She finally regained her composure before turning to a stunned Ahsoka. “Obi-Wan and I had a brief... entanglement. Years ago.”

“That they occasionally revisit,” Anakin added, and Siri shot him a dirty look. 

Ahsoka slowly looked from one to the other. “... You have just completely shattered my mental image of Master Obi-Wan.”

“There was also Duchess Satine Kryze,” Anakin added, and laughed when Siri rolled her eyes.

“No way!” Ahsoka’s eyes were now saucers.

“And I’m pretty sure Taria Damsin,” Siri added thoughtfully.

Anakin laughed harder as his Padawan sputtered shock and horror. “Okay, okay,” he said. “Snips, how is he doing?”

Ahsoka’s stunned expression slowly faded into deep lines of concern. “Not good,” she replied. “He has started coughing, and I don’t like the sound of it.”

Anakin’s brow furrowed. “I noticed that when I was in there.” He rubbed his forehead. “I’ve seen Obi-Wan sick before. I‘ve seen him injured before. But this combination of both...”

“What did Kix say, Ahsoka?” Siri asked. She could feel Anakin’s anxiety rising, and sincerely hoped Kix had told Ahsoka something that would alleviate some of the worry.

“He said he would know more after he had a chance to examine him,” the Padawan replied. “He was planning to change the bandages and give him another dose of something for pain and fever, as well as antibiotics.”

As if he heard them taking about him, Kix entered the mess hall. He spotted the trio seated at the table and strode over to pull up a seat. “I have a monitor on him,” he said before any of them could protest his leaving Obi-Wan. “I dosed him up and he passed out.”

“How is he?” Anakin asked.

Kix sighed heavily. “I’ll be honest, sir, I’m worried. The infection in the wounds is not getting better - not worse, but not better. But what worries me most,” he went on, “is that the pulmonary contusion – bruised lung – has caused a bout of pneumonia.”

Ahsoka’s brow furrowed with worry, and Anakin blew out a breath. “That’s... not good.”

“It’s a common complication for that kind of injury,” Kix continued. “I just really hate it for the General.”

The three Jedi exchanged looks. “Is it time to take him back to Coruscant?” Anakin asked.

“I can get him there in two standard days,” Siri replied. “That would free you up to get the Togruta to their new home.”

“Will he be okay for two days on a shuttle?” Ahsoka asked.

“I can set you up with meds and equipment you would need,” Kix offered after a moment of mulling it over. “Teach you to use it.”

“I’d feel better if he was with Master Che,” Anakin admitted. “No offense, Kix.”

The clone grinned. “None taken, sir.” He stood. “I’ll get together what you’ll need.” With a brief salute, he turned and headed out.

They fell silent for a long moment, all lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Anakin broke the stillness with a cry of frustration. “If only he weren’t so kriffing stubborn, he wouldn’t be in this situation!”

“I don’t get it,” Ahsoka said, idly stirring her stew. “Why wouldn’t he just go to medical in the first place, before it got so bad?”

Siri sighed, and reached for the mug of tea she had set to the side. It had gone cold, but she sipped it anyway, and then stared into the liquid.

“What?” Anakin asked.

She looked up. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re sure thinking it,” Ahsoka said. “I can feel the emotions rolling off of you from here and almost see the gears working in your mind.”

Siri sighed and set the mug aside. _Stang..._ she thought. She was quiet for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “How much do you know of Obi-Wan’s childhood?” ~~~~

“Only that he doesn’t like to talk about it,” Anakin replied.

She hesitated for a moment and bit her lip. “He would not thank me for telling you this, so you will keep quiet.” Her steely gaze rested on each of them in turn.

“Okay,” Anakin said slowly, eyeing her curiously.

Wide-eyed, Ahsoka nodded.

Siri took a deep breath. “Obi-Wan very nearly did not become a Jedi at all,” she said, and held up a silencing hand against their surprise and disagreement. “For a long time, no one would take him as a Padawan,” she went on. “Everyone felt he was too impulsive, reckless, and emotional.” She shot Anakin a pointed look, eyebrow raised. “The Council nearly gave up and sent him off to Agri-Corps.”

Anakin sat silently, brows furrowed as he listened intently.

“What happened?” Ahsoka asked.

“Qui-Gon Jinn noticed him practicing one day and saw something in him,” she said. “And so, he took Obi-Wan as his Padawan.” Her gaze flitted to the door, and she pictured her sleeping friend down the corridor in her quarters. “I’ve always thought, though, those years when Obi-Wan wanted to be chosen as a Padawan and being overlooked over and over left him feeling... inadequate.” She toyed with her mug. “He was always sure Qui-Gon would decide he’d made a mistake and give up on him.” 

“Poor Master Obi-Wan,” Ahsoka breathed.

“Since then, he has hated to feel like he is a bother to anyone. Hates to put anyone out or put them to any trouble.” She smiled wryly at them. “That’s why he is always ‘perfectly fine’ when you know absolutely that he’s not.”

Anakin was quiet, and Siri watched him in equal silence. Finally, he looked up and into her eyes. “Do you think that’s why– “

She reached over and squeezed his hand briefly. “The Force usually puts a Padawan with a particular Master for a reason, Anakin,” she said, quietly. “Come on,” she added, pushing herself to her feet. “We need to let the Council know what is going on.”

Anakin nodded and stood as well but paused to look down at his Padawan. Ahsoka remained seated, her arms folded on the table and forehead resting on them. “Snips?” He gently patted her shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. Obi-Wan will be okay, I promise.”

She lifted her head and peered up at him. “No, it’s not that.” She flitted a quick glance at Siri and then moaned and dropped her head again. “My illusions of Master Obi-Wan have been destroyed.”

Anakin smirked, and Siri laughed as she passed by the Padawan and patted her gently on the shoulder. “Obi-Wan is a man of many talents,” she said diplomatically and headed towards the door. 

Ahsoka let out a moan of displeasure while her Master froze in disbelief. Cringing, Anakin shook his head. “I could have gone most of my life without hearing that,” he muttered, then turned to follow Siri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too much?


End file.
